Chapter 13
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I watched in disbelief as he sat with my manager, Donna, chatting easily across the table like they were old friends, He was wearing a button–down shirt that probably
cost more than Donna’s monthly rent, his hair perfectly styled, that expensive watch I’d given him for our third anniversary glinting on his wrist.
My mind raced with questions and unease. How had he found me? How had he charmed his way into my sanctuary? What new hell was this?
The peace I’d carefully built was shattering around me like glass, sharp edges everywhere I turned.
I slipped outside to call my parents, my fingers shaking so badly I could barely tap the screen. “Did you tell him where I was?” I demanded when my mother
answered.
“No, honey, of course not,” she said, but the slight hesitation was enough. Their voices dripped with guilt as my father took the phone. “He was relentless, Liv. Came by every day asking where you were. Followed your mother to the grocery store, to her book club. We thought if we just told him the city, he’d leave
us alone.”
“You promised,” I whispered, tears pricking my eyes. Even now, they couldn’t hold firm against him. Even now, his needs came before my safety.
A knot of confusion tightened in my stomach as I ended the call.
Where was Kate? Where was the baby? The pregnancy she’d so proudly displayed at my birthday dinner would be showing even more now.
Why had he abandoned his pregnant girlfriend to follow me across the country? When I returned, he’d already changed into the coffee shop’s black uniform shirt. It was too tight across his shoulders, clearly borrowed from someone smaller. He’d rolled up the sleeves to expose his forearms, the dusting of dark hair, the veins. that stood out when he lifted the heavy bags of coffee beans like they were
nothing.
He looked ridiculously out of place among the college students who made up most of the staff, like a wolf trying to blend in with puppies. Too sharp, too dangerous,
too aware.
I kent my head down, avoiding his gaze, but couldn’t escape his constant presence
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eyes that seemed to see right through me.
“You’re doing it wrong,” he said when I was cleaning the espresso machine. “You need to use the brush first, then the rag.”
“I’ve been doing this for weeks,” I snapped. “You’ve been here ten minutes.”
He just smiled, that infuriating half–smile that never reached his eyes. “I’m a fast learner.”
After my shift ended, I changed quickly in the tiny back room, my fingers fumbling with buttons as I tried to get out before he finished his training. No such luck. I’d barely made it to the door when I heard his footsteps behind me.
I practically ran for the exit, bursting out into the California sunshine like a swimmer desperate for air.
Ethan followed, dragging a sleek leather suitcase behind him, the wheels clacking
on the sidewalk.
“Where do you live?” he asked casually, as if he had every right to know.
I stopped in my tracks, the entire day’s frustration boiling over like milk left too long on the stove.
“What the actual fuck are you doing here?” I hissed, keeping my voice low so passersby wouldn’t stare. “What about your job? Your mother? Kate? Why are you following me? What new way have you found to humiliate me?”
He looked completely at ease, sunglasses now perched on his nose, hiding his
eyes. “I quit,” he said simply. “Wanted to see what you’ve been up to.”
He made it sound so reasonable, so simple. Like crossing the country to stalk your ex–wife was the most natural thing in the world.
I turned to leave, but he followed closely behind, the suitcase wheels creating a rhythm behind me. Click–clack, click–clack, the sound of my nightmares following me down the street.
“I didn’t book a hotel,” he said, his voice closer to my ear than I expected. “I’ll crash at your place tonight.”
I had to stop again, my heart hammering against my ribs like it wanted to escape.
I
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turned to face him, making sure my expression left no room for misinterpretation. “Ethan, we’re divorced. Kate needs you back in New York. The baby-” “There is no baby,” he cut in, his voice suddenly hard. “There never was.”
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